Moving, memorable and thought-provoking,
There were two reasons why I knew I wanted to read this book – the first because I know from past experience what a consummate story-teller Elizabeth Buchan is, and the other because the idea of a museum dedicated to artefacts which represent loss, grief and broken promises is such an appealing one. Objects in Laure’s museum have all been donated by members of the public, accompanied by an explanation of why they represent a broken promise or betrayal. If Laure agrees to put an item on display it is on the understanding that, as few exhibits are permanent, it will be on a temporary basis, after which it can either be removed or it will be destroyed. She believes that this offers people, either the donors or visitors to the museum, the opportunity to reflect on what the objects represent and to offer opportunities for catharsis and resolution. There were moments in the story when I felt very moved by the varied reasons for the donations and the descriptions of people’s reactions to the objects. These accounts of their pain and sadness, anger and resentment, as well as their discovery that it can be therapeutic to find an outlet for these feelings in order that the process of healing old wounds can be started, demonstrated the author’s empathetic understanding of the emotional distress caused by lies, betrayal and deception.
Stories which move between different time-frames can often be confusing but the author managed this in a way which not only felt coherent, but which allowed for a slow release of Laure’s backstory. The sections in Paris and Prague are told from her perspective, whilst the sections from Berlin are told from Petr’s and I found that this switch added an important perspective as Laure contemplated how her unresolved past experiences were still having such an impact on her life, especially her difficulties with close relationships. This process of reflection is partly driven by the arrival of May, a young American journalist who wants to write an article about the museum but becomes much more interested in getting behind the façade of the enigmatic, defensive Laure. Initially ultra-resistant to May’s insistent probing, Laure gradually becomes more open, finally experiencing for herself the catharsis of forgiveness, of herself and others, the acceptance that one’s views of a situation can change over time and the relief of reconciling old resentments and pain in ways which mean no longer being shackled to the past.
I became totally engaged with this story within the first few pages and when I finished it felt full of admiration for the ways in which the author, with her elegant prose, so effectively created entirely credible, three-dimensional characters, capturing their hopes and fears, their capacity for brutality, compassion and forgiveness, as well as their potential for embracing the challenge of change. She was equally impressive with her evocative descriptions of the three cities which were central to the story, and the various ways in which she managed to capture the horrors of what daily life was like in countries behind the Iron Curtain. Additionally, but without being able to go into any detail because I don’t want to introduce any spoilers, I loved her metaphorical use of the marionettes and their cultural history to form a continuous thread through this wonderful, haunting story.
On a final note, I’d like to include two quotes from a speech which Laure gives and which, for me, encapsulate something of why I found this such a thought-provoking read:
"Why a museum devoted to broken promises? Which one of us has not experienced a broken promise in our lives? Either we made it and broke it. Or, someone made one to us and failed to keep it. The consequences can be funny, tragic, fleeting or life-long. However small, however large, those broken promises matter."
“Every culture must have its museums and a country without them is a country that either deliberately, or unwittingly, destroys its past. You could argue, therefore, that museums are as much political entities as cultural ones …”
Stories which move between different time-frames can often be confusing but the author managed this in a way which not only felt coherent, but which allowed for a slow release of Laure’s backstory. The sections in Paris and Prague are told from her perspective, whilst the sections from Berlin are told from Petr’s and I found that this switch added an important perspective as Laure contemplated how her unresolved past experiences were still having such an impact on her life, especially her difficulties with close relationships. This process of reflection is partly driven by the arrival of May, a young American journalist who wants to write an article about the museum but becomes much more interested in getting behind the façade of the enigmatic, defensive Laure. Initially ultra-resistant to May’s insistent probing, Laure gradually becomes more open, finally experiencing for herself the catharsis of forgiveness, of herself and others, the acceptance that one’s views of a situation can change over time and the relief of reconciling old resentments and pain in ways which mean no longer being shackled to the past.
I became totally engaged with this story within the first few pages and when I finished it felt full of admiration for the ways in which the author, with her elegant prose, so effectively created entirely credible, three-dimensional characters, capturing their hopes and fears, their capacity for brutality, compassion and forgiveness, as well as their potential for embracing the challenge of change. She was equally impressive with her evocative descriptions of the three cities which were central to the story, and the various ways in which she managed to capture the horrors of what daily life was like in countries behind the Iron Curtain. Additionally, but without being able to go into any detail because I don’t want to introduce any spoilers, I loved her metaphorical use of the marionettes and their cultural history to form a continuous thread through this wonderful, haunting story.
On a final note, I’d like to include two quotes from a speech which Laure gives and which, for me, encapsulate something of why I found this such a thought-provoking read:
"Why a museum devoted to broken promises? Which one of us has not experienced a broken promise in our lives? Either we made it and broke it. Or, someone made one to us and failed to keep it. The consequences can be funny, tragic, fleeting or life-long. However small, however large, those broken promises matter."
“Every culture must have its museums and a country without them is a country that either deliberately, or unwittingly, destroys its past. You could argue, therefore, that museums are as much political entities as cultural ones …”